I never like to admit this, it hurts too much. Clifford has never called me “mama,” or looked to me when someone asks where I am. Saying that out loud feels like exposing my deepest heartache — tearing open something I keep tucked away.

We deserve leadership that knows better. So let’s be better ourselves. Let’s raise our kids to be better than the example being set.

For every medical mama carrying more than the world will ever know, I see you. Our worlds are heavy, isolating, and exhausting. But they’re also filled with a depth of love most people will never understand.

This morning during Clifford’s therapy session, his teacher casually mentioned, “Next year when Clifford starts preschool…”
And I cried. Wait. What? Preschool? Like, go to school-school? Without me??

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a blog post — I think the last one was before Clifford even came home from the NICU. A lot has happened since then. Time for blogging slowly disappeared as our days filled with caring for Clifford. Much time has passed, and to be honest, I had hoped there wouldn’t be much to write about at this point. We’ve overcome so much, yet it still feels like we’re in the thick of it. I’ll get to that.